For This We Thank
by HuffynDK
Summary: Peter never thought it would be something horrific but ordinary that would make him remember how truly thankful he is for his 'pain in the ass'. WARNING: Medical squick, physical Whump for Neal, psychological whump for Peter and the gang. NOT SLASH :
1. Neal is a Hero and Pays the Price

Thanksgiving. The young man on the sofa sniffled and wiped a stray tear away. He should be over this. He should be used to being alone for the day. It wasn't really as if the day was much different than any other day. He didn't have to work so it just meant he spent a few extra days isolated. At the moment he didn't feel he had much to be thankful for. Every story had to have a villain. Neal found it ironic, sadly ironic, that Peter was shunning him, making him 'think about things' with the Fowler incident yet was taking Fowler's stories at face value and excusing Fowler's crap because the man's wife had been killed. Moz had warned him of a day like this. He'd warned Neal that when it came to a 'push and shove' the Suits cut different rules for themselves then they did for the Cons. He'd cried to Moz. His mentor and friend had been sympathetic but his words had carried an air of 'I told you so'. He couldn't hate Peter though. It would be as foreign to him as if someone had told him to quit breathing oxygen. No, he turned off those thoughts. It was simply fate, karma and all his fault. Every story needed a protagonist and an antagonist. He'd been scripted at a young age to be the antagonist and he seriously doubted it would ever change.

He got up and got dressed in a sweater and jeans. He wasn't going to stay. Peter had pointedly told him he wasn't invited. He didn't want to impose, but he had found Peter's favorite wine and felt Peter should have it to enjoy. He hoped one day he could figure out how to get Peter to forgive him without dying. He rather liked living, even on shitty days like this. He put on his tennis shoes. His fingers brushed the anklet and Neal winced. It didn't physically hurt. Well, it did once in a while when the skin under it got red and inflamed but no, the pain was psychological. It was a tangible reminder that he and Peter could never truly be friends, the anklet was the physical sign of the psychological Rubicon between them. Peter was the white hat and he was the black. Moz kept telling him that a nd how there would never be a happy ending for people like them. Deep down, Neal had ceased believing in happy endings long ago.

He pulled his shoes on and walked to the mirror. He carefully assembled the outward mask he wore. Neal wouldn't leave the apartment until every piece of the mask was firmly in place. Bad things happened if he failed in his ritual. He was checking the lights for the third time when he heard Samantha scream. He felt his blood run cold. He felt the surge of adrenaline at the terror. He didn't think. He grabbed the present and dashed down the stairs. Part of his brain that sounded suspiciously like Moz was warning him he didn't finish his ritual. The other part that sounded like Peter told him he was doing the right thing but for Pete's sake be careful. He quirked up a grin at hearing Peter saying Pete's sake in his head.

Neal raced down the stairs, seeing a panic June heading to the door. "June, no. Let me check on it." Neal called. He hit the bottom in a slight skid but recovered his natural cat-like grace quickly.

"Oh Neal, it's Sammy. She's out with Bugsy and those damn Rottweilers from down the block are loose. They are coming for her and she's terrified of them"

"Let me go grab Sammy and Bugsy. No offense but I can move a little faster." He looked down at the package. "Hold this for me. It's for Peter. He can't have thanksgiving without it." Neal steeled himself. The dogs scared him too. They had the whole neighborhood in terror. They were wild and vicious and their owner seemed amused by whatever they did. Neal had taken to walking Bugsy with the situation. He'd been needed to pick up Bugsy and dead sprint to the house for three times in the last two weeks. He flung open the door.

He was more scared inside then when he confronted Fowler. Each one of the behemoths outweighed Sammy. They were growling and stalking up to her. She had Bugsy clutched closely to her. The little dog was squirming and whimpering. Sammy was frozen like a statue and screaming. The noises and the smell of fear were adding to the other dogs excitement and agitation. Neal ran forward and scooped up Sammy and Bugsy. He knew his fast movements would mark him as a possible aggressor and a new target. He would put himself In that position gladly to save a child and he was also attached to Bugsy. Bugsy could annoy him sometimes and make him wish the little dog shared Satchmoe's disposition, but well he was Neal's little buddy and he was June's pride and joy – her little four-pawed child. Sammy meant the world to Neal. Through Sammy he could experience the childhood that had alluded him. No way in hell were these two jerkwads of the canine race going to hurt either one. He sprinted with the two to the door, his heart pounding loudly in his chest to hear the sounds of movement behind him.

He reached the door but tripped on the bottom step. He shoved Sammy and Bugsy through the open door as he felt one grab a hold of his leg. "June! Shut the door and call 911. Don't either of you come out until then."

"What about you?"

"I know a few things about this stuff from prison. I should be able to keep passable until they arrive. Just shut and bolt the door." Neal felt a wave of pain shoot up his right leg. "NOW!" Neal had dealt with guard dogs. There had also been a few guards that loved to sick the dogs on the prisoners when they were moving them from cell to cell. It hadn't taken long to see that for the majority, the purpose had nothing to do with prisoner management or crowd control. It was done for amusement by the majority. The more terrified a prisoner was of the dogs, the more visits they received.

He curled to a ball, putting his arms up to cover his face and his neck. He bit his lip to keep from screaming. It was terrifying to feel the biting and the tearing. He could feel the jeans shredding and blood flowing down unabated. The dogs were stirred on further by the sight, smell, and taste of the blood. They were frenzied, biting and pulling at Neal like he was a live action chew toy. He felt them begin to clamp down, shake, and drag him. He knew though he could not pass out and live. He had to endure to survive.

He turned his mind away from the feelings in his body. He chose to imagine the Burke's house. He could smell El's turkey seasonings wafting from the kitchen. She was whistling, her hair tied back in a pony-tail. She was wearing her red sweater and gray slacks, covered with a white lace apron. She was so happy. Neal knew El loved being a domestic taking care of her friends and family. He could see Peter putting the finishing touches on his snack mix, looking sheepish as El slapped his palm and warned him to leave some for the guests.

Peter would be wearing his jeans and one of his old college sweatshirts. He'd have snuck on those sneakers that looked to be held together by the sheer will of their owner. He would be stirring it for the finally turn in the microwave. In a minute he would go to the living room and begin to sit next to Satchmo. He would do his Thanksgiving ritual of watching football from the early hours of the morning until late at night. In a happier time, Neal would be sitting next to Peter nursing a beer and listening with half an ear to Peter attempting to explain to him the science and nuance of football. He was determined that this was some male bonding ritual Neal must partake in and master. Normally Neal wouldn't give two figs for football, but he's give all the figs in the world for Peter so he would put up with the lessons. Peter was a mix between the caring father and the teasing prankish older brother Neal had never had.

He felt the dogs' hot breath near his face. It seemed they were sniveling and growling right into his ear. He couldn't suppress a loud scream of pain as one of the dogs grabbed his ear and bit. He felt half of it torn off and felt warm blood run down the side of his face. He felt another bite into his hair and into his scalp. The dog was pulling and shaking. It was dislodging his scalp and the pain was agonizing. He wanted to pass out, to be in a place where he could no longer feel or hear. The dogs had ceased to see him as a person and he was simply a large chew toy. He began to doubt his bravado to June. He felt tears leak out. He was seeing the very real possibility that he could get mauled to death. He felt the dogs each grab an appendage and begin to drag him. He felt a wave of relief to hear the sound of sirens. He worked on focusing on salvation and not the feeling of being shredded apart.

He felt the dogs roll him. He could feel the tail of one whack him repeatedly. It was a new level of fear to sense that the dogs were enjoying this. He meant little to most of the human race, now he meant little to nothing to members of the animal kingdom. Peter and El had given him a taste of meaning something to someone and he'd been stupid and blown it. He sadly conceded that like so many other things in like the reward wasn't worth the cost. He felt the dog's snap and move his arms like kindling. His last thought before he felt one seize his throat was that he didn't want Peter to blame himself or to feel guilty. It warmed him to give those last thoughts to Peter and surrender them instead of selfishly retaining them. He gave into the siren's song and fell into the black swimming pool of oblivion.


	2. June Gets Some Upsetting News

June had called 911 right away. She had remained eerily calm, she felt, as she relayed the necessary information in her crisp, clear voice. Her tone gave off a calmness that she did not feel. Internally she was scared to death. She couldn't pinpoint the moment it had happened, but Neal was no longer a tenant. Neal was every bit her child as the ones she and Byron had shared. It surprised her that she had known the young man for only 2 years, yet she hadn't heard a word about his parents. She never saw any personal mail, any letters come through. Neal never talked about the past. She never pressed either. The boy was so hungry for love and affection, she sensed that even if not abused he'd been starved for both much of his life. The body was a grown man but the inside still had much little boy in him.

She could understand why Peter felt the need to punish Neal. He was law enforcement and they believed in punishment and deterrents. She wished though Peter would hang up the holster once in a while and view the prism from a different angle when Neal misbehaved. Peter shouldn't ignore it by any means, but if he looked hard, he'd see what June did. Neal idolized and respected Peter. He followed Peter around like a puppy, wanting nothing more than for Peter to notice him. He lapped up praise from Peter and would try hard to repeat the behavior. Peter knew the good in Neal and he wanted the good to show to everyone. It would but if he would sometimes focus more on the attention and praise, he truly would ward off more of the miscreant tendencies. She calmed Sammy as she waited what felt like hours for the ambulance. If June had still retained faith, she would have prayed for the fallen earth angel who'd stolen into her heart. Sometimes she did wonder if the prayers of the less than perfect of humanity were heard. She instead thought of good thoughts. She would need to call Peter but not now. Peter acted cold and indifferent but one look at the glances he through to Neal betrayed that. Peter would be freaking out and he would logically be demanding details and answers she couldn't provide at the moment. She'd seen Peter in action, interrogating medical staff about every reading and every procedure.

Peter loved Neal deeply like a little brother and a splash of father. June knew Peter wanted desperately to protect Neal from harm, especially when it sprang from Neal's problems with thinking through a situation. She'd sat and listened to his lecture after Fowler. She'd frankly been irritated and wanted to apply a switch to his backside. June felt Neal was like too many of Byron's friends, a good hearted person in love with someone who loved no one but themselves or baubles. She was glad frankly Kate was dead or she would have had to arrange a meeting between herself and Kate and persuade the young woman why it would be advisable to forget the existence of Neal. Neal read too many of her and El's romance novels and worse, he believed them as examples to be followed. Most of them involved his scenario and the fact that the good person stayed hanging on until finally at the eleventh hour the challenged lover had a complete epiphany didn't help her or Peter's cause.

She put Sammy and Bugsy in her study to play as she heard the sirens. She forced herself to calm and be clear and concise. This was not the time to show the panicky mother. They would want to know about Neal's medical and what happened. She was pleased Moz had planned for this contingency and gotten both Peter and herself Neal's medical history or as much as he claimed to know. She sensed that the unique little man knew a lot more but when it came to Neal and his privacy, he would parcel it out on a 'need to know' basis. It wasn't pretty, yet June wasn't surprised. Peter hadn't reacted well. He'd started to read it and had to excuse himself to the garden. She'd debated going out there, but she sensed that Peter sometimes preferred to deal with his emotions in his own way. She'd seen him pace, then he suddenly stopped and started kicking and punching, finally leaning up, winded, against a garden wall catching his breath. He was sweating, his face red, and his knuckles were scraped up and bleeding. After a few minutes, Peter returned all business and stoicism again. His stock in June's eyes though had risen since what she had witnessed showed her that Peter cared far deeper then sometimes he permitted his outward appearance to show.

There was a knock on the door. She opened it to a young paramedic. "Are you the person who called us, ma'am?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the ah person whose out here?"

June sighed but held her temper. "Yes, he is my tenant and good friend, Neal Caffrey. How is he?"

"Ma'am it isn't good. Do you know his blood type and if he's allergic to any sedatives?"

June took a deep breath. "He is O positive. He is not allergic to any to my knowledge, though morphine tends to leave him in a rather ah unique state."

"In short probably leaves him stoned. It happens to a lot of people." The young paramedic turned his head back. "Tell Manchester that he's O positive and no known sedative allergies, though it seems it may make him loopy."

"Please, what can you tell me about my friend's condition?"

"Honestly, ma'am I'm not a doctor."

"Nor am I. We are both human beings though and as such I would like to know," June had to catch herself. The young paramedic had moved and she could see large amounts of blood staining her porch and walk.

"Alright, ma'am. To be honest, this is possibly the worst mauling I've seen in a long time. He's losing so much blood we can't begin to assess his condition. The best we are going to be able to do is stabilize him for transport. We're taking him to Manchester General. If you want my gut truth? You better get anyone who might want to see him before he passes over there. He's not in good shape. I know that's horrible bedside manner but things are as they are. I'm sorry, ma'am." The young paramedic raced back to help his partner leaving June standing their stunned.

She felt in awe of the sacrifice. Sammy was just a little girl. There was no way that Bugsy or Sammy could have survived an attack like the one that had transpired. She walked into the house. She knew at least 2 people that she had to call. She first stopped to get the chauffeur to start up the car and bring it to the carport. She didn't want to subject Sammy to the scene out front. She figured she would have nightmares for a long time over it herself. She turned her back on the gruesomeness. She wished though the people that judged and condemned Neal simply on some select actions of his past, could see this and glimpse that there was more to him then an anklet and a rap sheet. She now had the thankless task of ruining the Burke's thanksgiving.


	3. An afternoon interrupted

Peter kissed and nuzzled El's neck. He loved the smell of her, and especially when she was cooking. He wasn't ashamed to admit after all these years of marriage he was still as attracted to his wife as the day they met, more so. Each day he found himself finding something new to love. He really hoped one day Neal could have this. Neal deserved so much better then Kate, but then again, he could get obsessed with work and neglect El and many people might make the argument that she deserved better. You loved who you loved and that was that.

He felt bad about the argument he'd had with Neal yesterday. It hadn't even been Neal's fault. He'd been frustrated about the lack of progress on a case. Neal had tried to lighten his mood and he had blown up at him. It had helped HIS mood though he conceded it probably did nothing for Neal's. El wouldn't put up with him blowing up at her. She would get up and leave the room, locking the door to the bedroom until Peter came to his senses and apologized. It helped to that Neal seemed to know the appropriate apology gift for any situation, a male Miss Manners. Neal didn't judge him though he would provide the occasional 'tsk'. He'd pick Peter's wallet, go to the computer and soon had the appropriate present well on its way.

He wondered what he should get Neal. He'd really drained two fully loaded carbines. Clinton and Diana had overheard and couldn't even look at Peter. He'd thrown back in Neal's face every indiscretion and misstep. He'd called him unrepentant, petulant, selfish, and immature. He accused Neal of never having cared for anyone else but himself. He claimed Neal didn't know the meaning of sacrifice. His crime had been to ask Peter if he wanted to take an early lunch. Peter shook his head now at how no crime had been committed and he really hadn't warranted all the theatrics. Peter also had to concede if he had overheard anyone else say that to Neal, as soon as Neal was out of viewing or hearing range, Peter's fist would have a discussion with the commentators face.

"What did you do?" El smiled and asked, playfully pushing Peter away so she could check the temperature on the turkey.

"What? Who said I did anything?"

"Peter, I love you but when you suddenly get frisky in the kitchen and overly demonstrative, it means you have a guilty conscience." El was pleased with the reading and adjusted the oven temp up. "I'm not complaining." She gave Peter a kiss.

"I was an ass at work and I did something I'm not proud of." Peter sat down and huffed. "Neal and I had a fight, or should I say it was a one-sided fight."

"PETER BURKE, you HIT him? You know he's a lover not a fighter. Violence scares him."

"I know, and no I didn't hit him. He's had too many people physically do that to him. No, I used a deeper weapon, my tongue."

"What did Neal do this time? I know he can act without thinking, but really Peter he doesn't do any of it to deliberately hurt you or make you mad. He's impetuous and tends to jump from Chapter 1 to the last chapter, like someone we both know does with a mystery book."

"I do it to find out if a character I like lives, and they aren't the killer. I don't like wasting my time reading and finding out the person isn't going to make it."

"You both get boredom and you both don't like surprises. Now what did he do?" El sat next to Peter.

"He said I looked stressed and he asked if I wanted to take an early lunch."

"That really isn't the type of thing I would see starting a fight. I think it is actually kind of sweet to do. You know he gets agitated since your blood pressure came back high."

"I'm an FBI agent, it comes with the territory. I'm also Neal's handler, though I admit I rather like the rewards it gives me. A few gray hairs might actually make me distinguished."

"You also don't mind having another Satchmo at work that hero-worships you and eats up everything you say."

"True, though I wish that applied to 'think things through' and 'forget about Kate'"

"He's a romantic and in love with love. The world needs those gentle souls."

"It does, however gentle souls suffer deep heartbreaks."

"You want to protect him from everything that would hurt him or cause him pain but that's not always possible."

"I called him selfish, immature, irresponsible, oh and other things but I think you get the drift. I also uninvited him for thanksgiving supper."

"YOU WHAT? I can't BELIEVE you. This is a holiday for you to leave the badge and the holster at work. It's a day for you to just be Peter and to enjoy family. You just kicked out our closest family from the table. Moz is at the hospital and well you know Neal has a phobia about them. One of us has to go with him to reassure him. He can't spend it with Moz. June has all her family around and you know he hates to impose. Do you really see Alex inviting him over for a home-cooked meal?"

"I didn't say I was proud of it. I was going to give him another hour to wake up and then call and apologize. I was going to see if I can get him to come over."

El smiled. "You both can be jerks sometimes but you are golden hearted jerks and you're my jerks." She held out her hand. "Billfold please."

"Why?"

"He deserves an apology present, especially after picking out such nice ones for me." El took the offered billfold and pulled out a credit card.

"How do you know I don't make the choices?"

"Because I see you mouthing to Neal over my head 'what did I get her' when I greet you with a big hug that I loved your present. You give Neal your card so it counts as helping get it." El fired up her laptop. "Now, which do you want to get. There is a set of four Rat Pack plates on sale at Amazon, or a lovely easel and paint set from Artists Unlimited."

Peter thought hard about that. "Go with the plates. I just took Neal to the art store a couple days ago and he got another easel and come canvas. Also, he has a credit there so he can look and pick out what he wants. They sent the wrong colored canvases."

"Again? They really are slipping with their quality control."

"That or Neal needs to get his eyes checked. I think the contacts are lower and he refuses to wear his glasses. I think he is copying the numbers wrong. I think I'm going to have him check the canvas colors he wants and check the codes next time."

"Just be careful how you suggest it. He is proud and he is also a little bit vain. You don't want to offend him. Can you go up and put the clean sheets on the guest bed? It wouldn't hurt to get him to spend the night. I worry sometimes he spends too much time brooding about things at Junes."

"I know. I've wanted to ask you, but I would love to talk Neal into moving in here. No offense to June and I know he loves it there, but she's beginning to be gone more and more with her family. He's not made to be alone. He thrives on social contact. Too much time alone and he gets dark and depressed."

"We could suggest Moz move in with him."

"OH NO, no no no. Moz is a good person. I like Moz but he's a lousy influence on Neal. He knows Neal is a sponge and he fills Neal's head with his far out conspiracy theories. Also, I know Moz isn't reformed and he has no plans of reforming. I'm seeing definite signs from Neal that he wants to leave conning further and further in the past."

"I know with the conspiracy theories. Moz recently had him terrified of red food. I had to convince him his BLT was safe because the red came naturally and wasn't a dye."

"I know. Clinton got everyone cherry Danish and it took an hour before I could get him to take a nibble of it. "

Peter kissed El again. "Thank you!"

"For what? You'd already worked it all out in your head. You just needed me to help you clarify things. There, I got the plates. I also got him a smoking jacket. They had it in blue like his eyes."

"A smoking jacket? Neal doesn't smoke."

"It's the image. It's a fancy name for a bathrobe for him to wear over his pajamas and it's got the names of the Rat Pack stitched on it and a pair of dice."

"Sounds good, just remember Christmas is coming up. El is going to see if she can track down Byron's old tailor to make Neal a couple more suits. I told her even though they make him look like a duck we would go Dutch with her on it. She's also going to see about securing a new Fedora for him." Peter left the kitchen to prepare the guest room.

The kitchen phone rang and El picked it up. "Hi. We were just talking about you. Thank you for planting the idea with Peter but making it seem it was yours. They make him look adorable not like a duck. June, you sound funny. What's wrong? …..Oh my…Shit! Oops I'm sorry June. I shouldn't swear. ….Let me sit down. What happened again?...Ok, Manchester General? No, put its okay. I'm sure Peter does. We'll be there as soon as we can. No June, of course not. We don't blame you or Sammy. You take care." El sat shaking for a few minutes with her head in her hands. She angrily swiped at a few tears that were leaking out. She had to be strong for her men. "PETER! Come here, NOW! It's an emergency."


	4. Breaking the News

Peter had heard the phone ring but had left it to El. If it was an emergency, the office always used his cell phone. Neal always used his cell phone. He wasn't even sure if Neal had his regular land phone line. He shrugged, figuring for the moment it was El's work or someone wishing them a happy thanksgiving. He got rather bored with some of her friends so he didn't mind El taking on that chore. He whistled as he quickly stripped off the bed. He got to the closet and wondered why women had to be fussy about the color of sheets. Sheets were sheets. He would never figure out everything. He picked out some soft blue flannel sheets. Neal was partial to the flannel.

He put on the new sheets, enjoying the smell. El had washed them in the lavender scented laundry soap. He stopped when he thought he heard El call his name. He sprinted downstairs when he heard the word emergency. He had never heard El sounding so panicked and scared. He would finish making up the bed later. He skidded into the kitchen to see that El had pulled the turkey out of the oven and was carefully bagging it. "Sit, Peter. I'll be just a second." El's back was to him but her voice sounded like she had been crying. Peter felt a knot grow. He did as she asked and sat down.

"What's wrong?"

"Peter, it's Neal. Something horrific happened." Peter heard her hands shaking. He got up and decided to help her with her task.

"What? Did he get kidnapped or runaway?" Peter thought the first was a possibility but if that were what had happened, the anklet had been left in place. The Marshall's office hadn't called to report otherwise. He no longer seriously thought Neal would run. They could fight and argue, and like all friends have uncomfortable moments, but he figured Neal would talk to him if he seriously had the urge to run. Neal wouldn't run over a thanksgiving supper, especially since they knew each other was prone to moments of high passion and mercurial temperament and it blew off as quickly as it began.

He took the bagged turkey and put it into the refrigerator. He noticed El's hands were shaking. "El, you are scaring me here."

"Oh Peter. June just called. I wanted to hold it together but I can't. Remember those semi-feral dogs Neal has been telling us about near the mansion?"

"Yeah, the ones he said he's had to do windsprints with Bugsy in his arms to get away from." Peter got a cold knot. He knew that Neal was terrified of those dogs. He had asked Peter, no begged Peter, to find some way to free them from these vicious nuisances.

"Sammy was out playing with Bugsy in the front yard. The dogs came on the property. Sammy picked up Bugsy but the poor thing got so scared. She was frozen and screaming. Neal ran out to rescue her. He picked her and Bugsy up. He had got them inside but had fallen on the porch. The dogs were unusually vicious and he ordered June to shut and lock the door and call 911. He said he'd dealt with dogs before. By the time the ambulance got there," El took a deep breath. She noticed Peter had turned deathly pale. "They had mauled him. The ambulance attendant told June it was one of the most vicious ones he had seen. They said they couldn't even begin to assess his condition. The paramedics could only try to stabilize him. They are taking him to Manchester General Hospital." El reached out and pulled Peter into a hug. "It's okay, it's just us. You know you don't have to be so damn stoic with me."

Peter was glad. He was a man of deep feelings and emotions, even if sometimes his own were difficult to put into words. Neal and El understood and didn't look down on him and would also patiently prompt him until he was able to get what he needed to say out. He was shaking inside. He could barely handle thinking of the pain and fear Neal must have been in. He almost wished his first idea was right. If Neal was kidnapped, it would at least give Peter a target to harness and direct his emotions. There would be a loathsome piece of trash to make pay. There would be the dogs' owners but this was less viscerally satisfying. This was ordinary. It was horrific. It wasn't even though going to be a crime Agent Peter Burke could handle. The White Collar division didn't handle dog bite cases.

Peter soaked up El's strength. He was going to be having to lean on her. He was in barely charted territory. He was going to have to handle this as Peter. He'd never had to deal with tragedy as just himself. Neal was going to need him and while he had no doubt that Agent Peter Burke was fully equipped to manage anything Neal needed, he wasn't as convinced Peter the frail, fallible man could do it. He knew though he had to try. "He's strong El, and he's a fighter. We just have to band together and be strong for him. El, AM I strong enough? I spend so much time as an FBI agent; can I be what he needs as his friend?"

"You already are. Neal believes himself a friend of the total package. He told me that you were Peter. During the day you put on your badge and your holster. You locked yourself down inside and handled anything that came your way. You functioned because you could put it aside and just do your job. Then, you take it off and you become just Peter again. He said it was a lot like Batman in reverse. He said just like Bruce Wayne and the Batman were the same, you and FBI Agent Burke were the same thing." El took a deep breath herself. "I just can't get out of my head how scared he must have been."

"I know. He is going to need a lot of our help and support. Right now, I am going to check on the tracker status with the Marshall's office. I need to get the address for the hospital. It's not one that I'm familiar with. We'll call the others from the hospital when we know something more. Clinton and Lauren are each spending the holiday with family. Diana and Christine were coming over."

"What about Mozzie?"

"In his current condition, I don't want to break it to Moz over the telephone. That would be too cruel. If Neal is going to be in the hospital long-term, I then want to see about getting them into the same hospital at least, if not the same room. Also, I will fight the staff on this, but Neal isn't to be left alone – ever. He would sit in terrible pain rather than admit it to a stranger. We'll need to tell the others what to look for to know when Neal is in pain. Though," Peter couldn't help a laugh, "if they do happen to give him morphine, it will be obvious. Last time he belted into Sinatra's Greatest Hits at 3am in his boxers."

"I remember, I took a picture. You were adorable singing with him. Don't worry; no one sees the photo unless I do need to blackmail either of you."

"Devious and well, I was informed Sinatra needed a backup singer." He took out his phone and called the Marshall's office. He got the address from them and read it off to El. They put Satchmo safely in the kitchen. After this news, they didn't trust leaving him outside unattended. They had never seen any loose dogs but there was no point risking another family member if it was not necessary. They went out to the Taurus. Peter attached his lights and peeled out, ignoring El's criticisms of his driving.

Peter felt he didn't drive fast. Peter drove with a purpose. Right now he was scared as hell and his purpose was to get to Neal as fast as possible. He gripped the wheel with white knuckles, hoping he wouldn't hear the worst when he got there. He willed Neal to fight.


	5. Arriving at the Hospital

Peter and Elizabeth parked the car and ran into the hospital. Elizabeth was catching her breath, while Peter hurried over to the only other human in sight – an old lady with flame colored hair wearing a pink blazer.

"Ma'am, ma'am, could you help me?" Peter asked, keeping himself as calm and civil as possible.

"I will certainly try." The lady looked up and gave Peter a motherly smile. "What are you looking for?"

"My par…" Peter stopped himself. Neal was much more then a partner, and friend – well that didn't fit either. "My little brother" Peter started as the words came out but they fit. "My little brother was just taken here by ambulance."

"Oh, I am so sorry to hear that, and on a holiday too." The old lady looked sympathetic. "You need emergency waiting. Unfortunately you are on the wrong side of the building. What you need to do is go to those glass elevators, take them to the second floor, then follow the signs to the cafeteria. When you get to the cafeteria, take the elevators there to the first floor and take the second right. The receptionist there can help you. I do hope your little brother will be all right."

"I hope so too, ah thank you." Peter was processing the directions and wondered why in the blazes they didn't have a clearly marked sign on the hospital showing this. He took Elizabeth's hand and hurried to the elevators. "I just called Neal my little brother." Peter said in a stunned voice.

Elizabeth smiled softly. "Everyone else has seen that for a long time now, you and Neal are the only ones who get stubborn about it."

Peter snorted and pressed the button for the correct floor. He and Neal were not stubborn. They were rational, well at least Peter was, and Neal tended to be rational but a bit of the dreamer. The realist and the dreamer – that was just one of the reasons that they worked so well. Peter kept his eye on the box while Neal thought outside of it and together they kept it all in line. He'd come to depend on the unique thinking, he'd even gotten used to Neal's feet on his desk and how he would never sit at a meeting. He didn't want to think about life without it. He didn't say a word but clutched Elizabeth's hand a little tighter.

The elevator arrived and the couple hurried down the maze of halls until the arrived at the elevators. They had brushed past people but were too intent on their mission to register it. They got on, Peter pumping the buttons to get it to close fast. He felt bad as it did close in the face of an older couple but Peter needed to get moving. He couldn't shake the urgency. They took the corners and arrived at a very crowded waiting room. Cheesy, happy holiday music was playing and a half dozen TVs' were on. No one, other then some of the children, seemed to be paying them any attention. They went up to another pink blazered lady.

"Ma'am, can you help me? I'd heard my little brother was being brought here by ambulance." Peter said, realizing how this time his tongue didn't stumble over the words.

"Name."

"Excuse me? My name is Peter Burke."

"Not your name, sweetie. I need your brother's name."

Peter rankled at being called sweetie. El didn't even call him sweetie. He hadn't been anyone's 'sweetie' since he was in diapers. "Neal Caffrey."

The lady looked up at Peter and wrinkled her nose. "Your little brother? Oh well, the world has certainly changed. Coffee?"

"No, I don't care for any coffee right now."

"No, sugar, your brother's name. I don't see any Coffee admitted."

"I suppose that is very good news for the Coffee family." Peter replied, not caring a little sarcasm was coming out. "His last name isn't Coffee. It's"

"Peter, Elizabeth, over here. Don't bother with her. I just tried." June called out. They rushed over. June had saved them some chairs, ignoring the growls from the people around. Chairs were a hot commodity and any open one was fair game. "They have monitors there. Neal's arrived and is in room 2 but that's about all that it shows."

"I'm going to see what I can find out." Peter started to turn.

"No, Peter. If things are as bad as the attendant said, they need all of their concentration on Neal. Besides, you don't have your badge on you." Elizabeth put a hand on Peter's arm and led him to the chair.

"Yes I do." Peter said, trying to figure out a way to dodge Elizabeth and race to the room or the nurse's station.

"No you don't. I took it and I put it in my purse. It's thanksgiving and the FBI agent is off duty." Elizabeth insisted, making sure to move the purse opposite of Peter. "Now sit."

"Please Peter? I need your help. The nurse gave me this clipboard of papers and I really am not sure where to start." June did indeed feel helpless. She didn't know much of the information.

Peter sighed and took the clipboard. He reached in and pulled out his wallet. He began to robotically fill out the paperwork. This was indeed soothing. This was something normal. This was something he could fathom. He was used to paperwork. He dealt with it every day and was used to filling out forms regarding Neal. He smiled as he put down their address for Neal's physical and mailing address. He'd already decided that Neal was moving in at least while he recovered and hopefully longer. He put himself as next of kin. He shuddered. He hated filling in that blank. He did get practical. "Damn, El, can you call Diana and ask her to stop by the office on her way over. I need her to get a copy of my Power of Attorney for Neal. The one I can think of easiest is in the top side drawer in his folder. The other copies are with Moz and I don't want to tell him until I know more, and ah in the study and well it's a mess."

"When ISN'T your study a mess?" El chuckled. She had long ago conceded the fight about Peter's study. As long as he kept the door closed so that no company could see it, she would let him keep his 'man cave' any way he desired. She wouldn't want Diana in there. They may need a search party and she didn't want any other woman to think she approved of the manner in which it was kept. She had a certain sense of housekeeping pride. Only one person had braved it enough to try to clean it and organize it. Neal gave up in defeat after an hour, following very close behind Satchmoe, who El guessed had been serving as a guide dog.

Peter sighed checking off all of the ailments. It was enough to make a healthy man think that they were ready for a bone yard. Neal had been mauled. Why did the doctors need to know if he smoked – No – or drank? Peter checked 'socially' as he couldn't honestly say 'never' or 'occasionally' as he figured there were times when Moz came over and the occasion warranted it. No, he checked that he didn't think Neal needed alcohol counseling or psychiatric counseling. He took out his copy of Neal's insurance card and filled in the information, even though he recalled that under the last New York dog bite statute he had seen, the owners of the biting dog were liable to pay the victims medical bills.

He filled in their information for first Emergency Contact and then June's information. He still thought most information on here was pointless. He put down the FBI information for employer. Neal was a consultant on well technically work release so technically the FBI was his employer. He figured it would also insure better care when none of them were around to put the FBI as opposed to the Department of Corrections. He left some of them blank, some he didn't know honestly and some he didn't think were anyone's business. He wondered if there was some mass factory where nerds and dweebs with masochistic tendencies and nothing better to do with their time, did nothing all day but come up with new forms to torture the rest of the people with. He never thought he would say it but the FBI paperwork was nothing in comparison to the medical paperwork. Peter was relieved when he finally got to the last page and fought the urge for sarcasm. He put the pen in the clipboard.

"I'll just return it to the nurses' station." Peter announced.

"Just promise me you'll behave." El warned.

"I ALWAYS behave, Neal is the naughty one." Peter quipped as he headed for the nurses station. He was going to find out some answers.


	6. A Glimpse of Reality

_**I did some research in regards to a comment. Rottweilers are born with tails and most US breeders opt to dock the tails shortly after birth. In this case, the dog owner in question didn't dock them so they had regular tails. Thanks for bringing up the point. It led to some interesting research. **___** - Huffy.**

Peter took the clipboard and headed to the nurses' station. He was ready to make a polite, dignified inquiry. He wasn't yet to the point of an interrogation. He would wait until he'd stolen his badge back from El and had the Power of Attorney in his hand. They wouldn't have any choice BUT to listen to him. At the moment, he would simply ask and see what he could find out. He envied Neal's easy charm and El's grace. He even envied Moz's annoying persistence. He felt he had charisma and an air warning that he was a man not to be toyed with, however at this moment he felt weaponless, defenseless, and a little bit like Oliver Twist approaching the orphanage staff for more gruel.

He counted though the doors. He had two bets, from what he could see, as to which was Room 2. However, that would require logic and Peter didn't feel hospitals always dealt in logic like they should. Hospitals and hotels seemed to have their own weird and bizarre numbering systems, which was part of the reason that Peter had a vague distrust of both. He distrusted anything that flew in the face of sense and reason. It created inequalities that his mathematical mind couldn't totally accept. And then there was Neal. Peter smirked that Neal was a walking contradiction and many of Neal's actions and theories did fly in the face of sense and reason – yet Peter deep down trusted Neal in all matters truly important. He also knew if it was him in this 'Room 2', Neal would have snuck or charmed in ages ago. If all else failed, he would have grabbed a spare white coat and made a convincing lifelike Doogie Howser.

He was glad the person at the desk was matronly and a little horse-faced. This woman was approachable and he wouldn't feel guilty that he was flirting with another woman. He cleared his throat and plastered on a nice, benign smile he usually reserved for his in-laws or El's friends. It meant nothing but some women found it as charming as Neal's mega-watt smile. Peter figured they were crazy, stupid, conning, or drunk – except for El. He believed El. He took a quick scan of the nurse's I.D. badge. "I've completed the paperwork, Nurse Rutledge. Where do I place it?"

It had been a bad day for Amanda Lucille Rutledge. She hated working the holidays. Most people screamed at her as if it was somehow her personal doing that some misfortune had befallen their family or that the ER was busy and they were having to wait. She wondered again why she'd ever taken early retirement out of the military. She had at least outranked many of the people around and was spared dealing with fools, idiots, and complete jerks. She cringed at being bothered yet again. She only had ten minutes left of her shift. 'Would it be too much to ask for a little peace and quiet?' she thought as she looked up at the man who spoke. He looked like a nervous father, having rushed out of the house in a hurry and wearing an old sweatshirt he'd probably slept in. It gave the man a disarming charm. She stifled her immediate knee-jerk reaction to tell the man where to stuff it. He also had taken the time to acknowledge she was a person and address her by name. She forced a smile.

She got up and walked over to the man. "Here, I'll take that."

"Thank you. Must be taxing to have to work here on a holiday like this." Peter decided to attempt to disarm the nurse with a little casual small talk. Contrary to the belief of the rest of his staff at times, Peter was able to make small talk. It was helpful with witnesses and useful in interrogations. It through the suspect off their normal track and Peter got much of what he wanted or needed. He'd made up his mind that Nurse Rutledge was going to do one of two things, though she didn't know it yet. She was either going to tell him how Neal was or she was going to tell him the location of Room 2. Peter would prefer the latter as he wouldn't feel reassured Neal was alive until he saw his little brother with his own eyes.

"Yeah, the holidays are hard." Nurse Rutledge sighed and welcomed the small talk. "Thank you for asking Mr. Caff…"

"Burke, Peter Burke, ma'am." He held out her hand to shake. "Neal is my little brother; ah it's a long story." Peter deliberately scuffed his feet and shrugged his shoulders giving the woman an unspoken 'Aw Shucks' and bringing out his country persona. He could read that Agent Burke and this woman would butt heads like two rams on a hillside. The lady needed a little honey.

"I see things all the time Mr. Burke. I've heard all kinds of tales." The Nurse sighed.

Peter felt a nervous twist in his stomach. He wondered if it were possible that this lady suspected that he was fudging the truth? He knew though how to hide it and would just bluff her. "I'm sure you do. I'm just worried about my little brother. I was just getting the turkey started with my wife and was going to watch a football game. She gets a call from a friend that he'd gotten hurt or something and taken here by an ambulance. Poor kid just has such lousy luck, you know? I mean, how many people in New York City can that happen to? He hadn't even been home for a couple years. I was looking forward to a nice, quiet family holiday. He's just been through a lot, well we both have. Some people just don't understand how hard it can be in service to your country."

The nurse seemed to melt. "I know, retired military – United States Army."

"FBI, both of us. Seems we civil servants get pegged to do a lot of holidays. This was to be one of the first ones I was going to have completely off. "Peter sniffled, though Neal would scoff that it was too phony and staged. "The monitor says that he's here but he's in Department 2."

"No, no he's not in Department 2. There's no Department 2, closest would be Floor 2 and that would be maternity. I would've heard if a male in an ambulance for maternity would have come in. It's been pretty normal actually. I'll check for you." Agatha liked the man. She turned her back. "Only things out of the ordinary are a kid who swallowed the heads off his sisters Barbie dolls and this poor guy that got it from dogs. It looked pretty gruesome. They hurried up and rushed him into the big room right across from here. The guy was passed out, honestly I'd seen better on a battlefield." Agatha looked at the clipboard and her records. She blushed and felt her face warm. She turned around, and wasn't surprised to see the man had vanished. She debated hauling him out but figured she'd let someone else handle it. She smiled as her relief came on and decided to start her holiday a little early. Damn she really needed a cigarette. Tomorrow she'd go and talk to a recruiter about the possibility of re-enlisting.

Peter darted quickly across, not feeling encouraged by the nurse's report. He didn't bother to peek in through the window. He simply walked in. No one even noticed. He couldn't see Neal. All he saw was a cluster of at least half a dozen people all huddled together and scurrying, seemingly on top of each other. It reminded him of the video they show of bees in a hive. There was a lot of white and blue which he had expected to see. Those were standard hospital colors and they belonged there. It was normal and it didn't jolt him. There was however far too much red around for his comfort. He knew that the red was blood and that it belonged inside of Neal, not all over these white and blue drones. He leaned back against the wall stunned. He decided to switch his focus to the monitors and the green numbers. He really didn't know what they meant but as long as the numbers were higher than zero and the line wasn't flat, then he at least had the reassurance that Neal was alive. He firmly believed that as long as Neal was alive, there was little that was impossible for Neal to pull off and even less when he was there to back Neal up.

'You just keep fighting Neal. I still own your sorry ass. I didn't give you permission to quit. You have to personally request the right to croak at least two weeks prior to the event, in triplicate and signed by your immediate supervisor. Since the immediate supervisor is me, I can say permission to croak is denied. You are stuck living.' Peter thought. He couldn't afford mushy thoughts at the moment and referring to FBI paperwork and procedure gave Peter the thread of normalcy he needed at the moment. 'You really know how to get front and center on my radar, though you know a phone call would be a lot less expensive.'

"Damn it hurry. I need more units of O positive STAT. Geri, run and get us some more 19 gauges, syringes, and irrigation solution. We have several inches of wounds that we are going to need to irrigate." He heard a deep male voice call out.

"Rance, I am spotting at least a half a dozen wounds on the legs that are going to need debridement. The material on the pants is embedded as well as dirt from where they apparently did some dragging." Peter recognized that voice and said a thank you. Dr. Malcolm Fitzgerald was here. He was one of the doctors that would often handle FBI cases. "Elizabeth, I need you to carefully check the arms and hands. I need to get started here. Paul, irrigate the hand wounds first and then check the wound to his side. Natalie, call Dr. Middleton for consult ASAP. Let him know we have a young male with a badly lacerated ear and multiple lacerations to the scalp. We are also going to have to put in stitches and I want as always minimal scarring. Tell him to get off the damn indoor golf course and get here yesterday."

"Dr. Fitzgerald! I can't tell him that."

"You can and you will. You will tell him anything you need to to get his sorry overpriced behind in here." Peter saw a bald headed man look up and lock eyes with Peter. The older man scowled through blood flaked goggles. He snorted. "I should have known, damn it. Shit, Christine, get his face cleared off of that blood and make sure he's not bit. Heaven help the world if that mug scars. Natalie, drag that sorry damn bloodhound out of here. Burke, I don't want to see your sorry face in here. This is supposed to be sterile – even YOU and your pet know what that word means. Just how the hell did he get into this scrape? You all are supposed to be harmless White Collar but I swear I see as much of your crew as Ruiz. I've patched up Caffrey before. You can rest assured I have no plans of letting him die. The paperwork alone would kill me."

Peter watched as suddenly there was a commotion and the monitors began to scream. "DAMN IT! I thought the patient was sedated!"

"The paramedics reported that the patient was unconscious and so I allowed them to dispense with the sedation." The first doctor replied, slightly chastised.

"Shit! We've been scrubbing and irrigating and he could feel it all? Crap! I need an immediate IV infusion Rance of fentanyl and propofol. I want intubation ready once he is unconscious and a urinary catheter inserted."

"Dr. Fitzgerald, wouldn't Ativan be preferred?"

"No! He doesn't react well to..." Peter yelled out.

"Burke - get out damn it! You are doing more harm than good. I know he can't take it and I also know he can't take morphine. I'm both of your doctors usually when you need something like that. GET THE HELL OUT! I can't watch Neal and you and trust me Peter, you do not want to see him now or see anyone intubated. Natalie, get him out of here even if you have to drag him out. I'll talk to you as soon as I can. GO! Make sure security puts a couple of men on that door. Agent Burke doesn't take no for an answer."

Peter was too stunned to argue and followed Natalie outside. He walked in a blurry haze back to El and June and crashed into the chair. "We could lose him. We really could lose him." Peter forced out.


	7. Diana joins the vigil

**_Authors Note:_** Thank you for the responses and interest. I apologize for the delays. I have been dealing with some health issues. I will try to update this much faster in the future. I hope you will continue to stay with me. I also checked and yes, most rottweillers have only stubs for tails, but that is mainly an american practice to dock tails and in this case they are undocked. :)

Peter thought of pacing, but he didn't feel pacing would really solve anything, besides the waiting room was too crowded. He also knew pacing wouldn't make the doctors work any faster, or clear the horrible memory any quicker. He couldn't help wondering if any of this would have even happened if they hadn't fought. He wondered what if he would have been a little more patient. No, he still wouldn't have picked up Neal for another hour at the earliest. He would have still been at June's house and Neal would have still raced out to protect Sammy. Logically it wouldn't change anything, he knew, but he worried still that it would make all the difference. He turned his attention to El who was taking it hard. She was chewing her lip and trying to focus on a magazine article. It would have worked as a ploy to an outsider, but he had seen it was the same page over and over for at least ten minutes. He also had never known El to take a keen interest in the SEC standings for football. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing it.

"It'll be fine. He's a tough kid, even if he doesn't always look it." Peter said soothingly, even though he still wasn't logically convinced it wasn't wishful thinking. The area of hopes and dreams and romance was Neal's end of the partnership. He was the one who was a little 'pie in the sky'. Peter dealt in facts, figures, rules, regulations and percentages. The world of cold hard data and firm unchangeable rules was a comfort to the mathlete in him. He would right now trade all his cold, hard facts, for the ability to blindly hope and dream.

"Yeah, yeah. He is. He is going to pull out of this." El echoed, but she wasn't feeling any more convinced. She didn't know when or how but Neal had become a firm, irreplaceable fixture in their lives, much like Satchmoe. She had started to anticipate Peter coming to lunch with Neal in tow, a little like an eager puppy following his master and begging people to notice him and say a kind word. 'You're in love with the idea of being in love'. El could hear her words again in her memory. Neal seemed so starved for love that he would convince himself any woman that batted her eyes and cooed at him was the greatest and he was instantly in love with her. She sensed that when Neal was done mourning Kate, she and Peter were going to have their hands full as Neal found other women who were 'the one'. She imagined about any female connected to a case would be apt to fill the bill, as well as both Sara and Alex. El wasn't sure she totally approved of either woman for Neal. They both had their pluses but they also both had, in El's mind, some pretty substantial negatives. She would smile to herself about there probably not being a woman born who would meet her and Peter's standards. She could see Peter running every potential "Mrs. Caffery" through every possible FBI and Interpol database he could sneak by Reese.

She had been genuinely upset with Peter. She looked forward to the sparkling blue eyes. She loved the way he polished off every bit of her cooking and would compliment her abundantly on it. She liked having a guinea pig with a refined palette for testing out new recipes. She knew even if they were lousy, he would find a way to tell her very softly, graciously, and diplomatically. Peter was a good guinea pig but sometimes Peter could be a little too Agent Burke and be very blunt and to the point. They were though the perfect balance between calm, solid, earth and blue, airy, fancy air. Peter was also the more jaded and realistic to balance out Neal's romantic and deep down very naive' nature. She would often picture Neal in the sky like a helium balloon with Peter on the ground holding the string very firmly. Neither of them could face what would happen if the string severed.

"Peter Burke?" Peter looked up to see a police officer with a pad. He looked very young and nervous. Peter guessed he was still a green back rookie. Peter stood up hoping to indicate he was the person the young man was looking for. He was also surprised to see Diana brush past the young officer.

"Here, Officer Charles, follow me. I still say it is totally bull. I am in my official capacity and FBI outranks NYPD, even if you have more books and television shows. Special Agent Burke will vouch for that. It's Thanksgiving. You don't have anything better to do?"

"You parked in the fire zone. You honked and terrorized pedestrians on their way to the Macy's parade and you flipped off a camera crew from CBS."

"Sorry, I happen to think the possibility of a man's life being at risk a bit more important then a stupid parade."

"I'm sorry, ma'a. . . .I mean Agent Barrigan but there are rules and regulations." The young officer followed in Diana's wake like a whupped puppy.

Diana handed Peter the power of attorney. "Please tell this neophyte I'm here on official capacity."

"I can hear you. I'm not a neophyte. I graduated first in my class at the Academy." The young officer puffed his chest out a little, resenting the implication that he was something less then a real police officer.

"I'm sure you did Officer Charles. I did ask Agent Barrigan to rush over this paperwork A.S.A.P. as one of our team is currently in critical condition. I will though speak to Agent Barrigan about discretion and obeying the traffic regulations." He heard an annoyed snort from Diana and he shot her a discrete wink as he was trying to broker a peace. We all strive to keep a cool head."

"Peter - that's him." June spoke up, breathless, pointing towards a man staggering in drunk, with another man holding him up. "That's the man who owns those dogs."

Peter set his jaw and his eyes sparked with angry flames. "Please excuse me a moment." Peter stalked over to the man. He could feel the Burke temper cursing through every inch of him. El would be counseling him; he was sure, to watch his temper. At the moment Peter didn't give a damn. "Excuse me, sir, but do you have two rottweillers?"

"Yes, my babies. They are being held scheduled for execution because they attacked some pervert who was trying to break into the widow's house. I care about my neighbors and my neighborhood. They were trying to protect June. She's a nice lady and has been lonely since her husband died. The cops though. The cops don't even listen They are my babies. They are therapy dogs. They are soft and gentle and wouldn't hurt a flea."

"I got a message for you from the 'pervert'. First, he's a hell of a lot better man then you could ever dream of being. Second, he made a few bad decisions but you, Sir, would appear to have reached his quota and surpassed it. Third, his name is Neal and if you dare speak of him again, you use it, you sorry son of a bitch." Peter hauled off and slugged the man in the jaw. "Officer Charles, I want this man arrested for harboring vicious animals, assault on an FBI personnel, and public drunkenness. That ought to hold him until whoever is put in charge of the case can add some charges."

"Ah..yes Sir." Officer Charles felt he had probably witnessed an assault but Peter had flashed his badge when he turned around and spoke. The man on the ground was clearly smelling of alcohol and did confess to owning some dogs that attacked someone on someone else's property. He had at least enough to haul the man in for questioning and detaining until he sobered up. He would refer the case to the officers who had already apparently confiscated the dogs. Right now, Peter Burke outranked him and he was feeling the whole FBI in New York must be crazy if these two were any indication. "Agent Burke, I can't condone assault but since it appears the person in question who was attacked is with your office and you are law enforcement, I will release you to your own recognizance, but if I get called here again, I will book you for assault."

Peter nodded, impressed that the young officer had some courage and knew his law. He watched with satisfaction as Officer Charles placed the man under arrest and ushered him out.

"Cool heads?" Diana smirked.

"Hey, I didn't break any bones. I say that counts." Peter nodded and headed back to continue his vigil.


	8. Update

I wanted to invite you to a fanfic exchange list which is open to multiple fandoms. It is for people to request specific stories you would like to have written. It is though for either gen or slash. Here is the link and I hope to see you there.

.com/the_ff_exchange/

Want to reassure you I haven't abandoned this, nor any of my stories, not by a long shot Just have undergone some medical testing that took priority in my mind and choked out the muses for a while. I appreciate your patience in bearing with me. All my stories will be updated this weekend.

Huffy


	9. A chat between the fairer sex

Diana sat back and tried to be interested in the magazine in front of her. Peter's incessant pacing was giving her a headache. She liked Elizabeth but she really didn't know her as anything else really except the wife of a co-worker. She didn't feel comfortable to just sit and make idle chit-chat, and anything she could try to say about the present situation might prove more a curse. She had developed the philosophy that if one became too overly optimistic regarding the condition of an injured person; the exact opposite seemed to invariably happen. She also was still at times too conflicted about Neal to know what to say.

Neal was a puzzle to her. One minute she could be so angry with him she wanted to throw him in the nearest super-max without a key. He had played a hand in violating the sanctity of her home and scaring the hell out of the person whose life made hers worth living. He could be annoyingly smug when he came up with a solution with Peter to something that had Jones and herself scratching their heads. He made her feel sometimes like she wanted to strangle the life out of the young man and no court would convict her. It had been so much easier when Neal was a rap-sheet. It was facts and figures and easily compartmentalized. Then, Peter had called her home, needing her help and she had become an assistant handler/sister to the C.I. She had seen the bad, the things that confirmed the rap sheet, but then she saw all the other things that made her want to protect him and pull him down the straight and narrow. She felt she would hogtie him if she had to.

She had watched with her own eyes Neal sacrifice a ring, the last remnant of the mysterious Kate to save Peter's life. He had saved her from having to prostitute herself by coming up with the unheard of fee for her 'services', money she found out later from Peter came from his own stash. She saw how the 'little devil' really had a dented halo and battered wings as well, if someone took enough time to find out. She had seen how Neal had risked it to save Peter from the frame up. Neal also snuck them Italian roasts and first class pastries when they were on a stakeout, even if he still would pout and whine like a little child. He'd make gagging noises over Peter's devilled ham sandwiches, yet when Peter had a day when he was tied up in meetings, he would arrange to meet El within his radius and bring them back.

"He gets under your skin, doesn't he?" June said, handing Diana a cup of the precious Italian roast.

"He does, in more ways than one. You know, just when I think I have him all figured out, he shakes the picture like a kaleidoscope." Diana agreed.

June got a warm, motherly smile on her face. "He does, but" she took a swallow of her own coffee, "I think that is partly because even he doesn't know yet what the picture is. The Burkes see the picture better than anyone. I try, but my vision is clouded between wanting him to be the dashing and exciting reincarnation of my husband, while the mother in me wants him to find a life that is calm and safe. Sometimes I honestly wish I could wrap him up in bubble wrap and lock him away in the penthouse from a world that is far too cruel to him." She chuckled. "I can't do either though. He is a creature of the world and he needs to be part of it. He feeds on the excitement and the energy around him. He's equal parts Saint and Sinner and reminds me of a mischievous angel who is here because he was playing too close to the edge of the clouds. I can though say with certainty that I am not at all ready to surrender him back. No, if the clouds want him back, they will have a hell of a fight on their hands."

"You'll need to take a number on that one. I think Peter and Elizabeth have about the first several hundred in their possession." Diana quipped, seeing the familiar look of no-nonsense and pit bull determination Peter always wore when he was on a case. "I'm surprised Neal's mystery shadow isn't here."

"Mozzie?" June rolled her eyes. "Mozzie does not do hospitals or waiting rooms. He cares, never forget that. He just has a different way of showing it to Neal then any of the rest of us does. Neal knows he does and that he's with him in spirit. Also, seriously, Mozzie respects what turf is his and what turf belongs to Peter when it comes to Neal, though I don't think Mozzie and Peter will ever agree on the boundaries of each ones piece of turf. He concedes that this is a time when Peter's strength and decisiveness is the key component for resolving the crisis. He'll be calling either me or Elizabeth though for updates. He is a strange little man, but Neal and Mozzie are devoted to each other and there is nothing each would not do for the other, even if it would mean Neal entering prison and having the key tossed away, or Mozzie taking a bullet."

"I should probably begin making some phone calls myself. Clinton would be furious to know that something happened to Neal and no one had bothered to call him. Clinton and Neal are an equal mix of the Hardy Boys and the Katzenjammer twins. Clinton loves to watch Neal's antics and though I can't prove it, I would not be surprised if some of Neal's ideas didn't have some genesis in Clinton. I annoy Clinton I know that I look too much at the serious flaws and don't see the rest of Neal that's very special and viable enough. Clinton likes to remind me that if I just think in black and white, I am missing a whole spectrum of life. He doesn't understand though that I have to live in the black and the white. I tried living in the spectrum. It leads to pain and fear and confusion. It's easier to protect ones heart and soul if you live in monochrome."

"I wish sometimes Neal would adopt more monochrome. He lives fully in Technicolor and he does get a lot of dings. I wouldn't though change that about him. He's an artist and he must live and paint what he sees: the good, the bad, and the ugly."

"I can't though, not yet. Perhaps Christie is right, though I won't ever admit it to her in a million years. She says that perhaps Neal and I are in each other's lives for a purpose. I'm in his life to teach him tethers, boundaries, and well that the inscription on the Statue of Liberty is not meant to be a criteria for picking up a significant other. He's in my life to rip off the curtains to my soul, dust away the cobwebs, and force the full spectrum of light back in before I become old before my time. I should also call Hughes. Peter is in fight mode and sometimes tact departs Peter, especially if he is simultaneously in his 'protect Neal' mode. He'd do the calls but make it very perfunctory, like getting a sympathy call from Sgt. Joe Friday."

"I heard that and thank you. I wish to say though I am not quite that bad. I'd like to believe that I have a few more social understandings than Jack Webb." Peter snorted. The ladies did have to admire his multi-tasking. They both figured Peter had eavesdropped on their full conversation without ever dropping a step.

"Yes Peter," they heard Elizabeth sigh in the unmistakable sound of a spouse who had decided it was one battle that they had conceded, but not without wishing to include an air to let the spouse know it was a hollow victory. The spouse would find out one day that they had been right all along and they were warning of their full intent to apply a dose of "I told you so". Diana had to admit she used the same "Yes Dear" when listening to Christie vent about New York City and her desire to return to the civilization of Washington, D.C. They both knew that Diana's career came first and the couple would be where they needed to be for it.


End file.
